The Last Time
by hot-off-the-press
Summary: This is the last time I'm asking you why you break my heart in a blink of an eye. (Set in the dawn of the past) One-shot


_Find myself at your door just like all those times before_

_I'm not sure how I got there, all roads they lead me here_

_I imagine you are home, in your room, all alone_

_And you open your eyes into mine and everything feels better_

Driving through the freeway, I rolled my window down and inhaled the air that seeped into the small confinement of my truck. The breeze that came in was intoxicated with the fresh scents of the pine trees that bordered the road, the wind not too cold nor too hot on my skin. I looked up into the sky and gazed at the magnificent blends and shades of orange, red, purple, and blue that painted the horizon. It was a beautiful sight and I appreciated its happy ambience as I drove.

I've noticed these past few days that my senses were clearer, my eyes unclouded, and my conscious focused.

But there was still that nagging voice in the back of my head that kept reminding me that no matter how many times I had told myself after every rehab stint that this was going to be _the last time. _

That this time, it was going to get better from now on. And that I would move on from the dark tunnel and live my life sober with the woman that I've loved since I was sixteen. That this time, I wouldn't even have second thoughts on even getting that glass of whiskey anywhere near my mouth or even let such thoughts beguile me from my road to sobriety, it has always failed me and I have always failed the love of my life.

But this time, I felt different. There was this light of hope that I have never felt before. The feeling that this time, everything I have worked for and believed in would stick. This time it would truly be different.

It's been a week since I have left rehab for the fifth time. It's been a solid seven days and I haven't even felt the desire to drink myself away. To be more precise, it has been 195 days since I had a drop of that bittersweet elixir that had a tendency to drown my world so deep that I couldn't resurface. And after each day, I felt stronger and more concentrated. I no longer have those dark musings of the past that had started all this mess.

It has also gotten easier to blockade the temptation of the phantasm that the bottle of liquor creates. And it's been easier to turn myself down to the idea of trying to prove myself by ordering a glass and force myself not to drink it which always has ended me to doing the latter. I felt like a new man the minute I set foot outside the gate and leave the world of rehabilitation behind. And leave that sickening universe for good.

It's been an excruciating 4,738 hours since I have seen Rayna. Usually, she was always the first person I would see in the outside world but this time it was Coleman who had first greeted me. The second I got out, I looked around the lobby and the parking lot for her but she wasn't there. Sheer confusion washed over me as the anticipation for this day has gone to waste. For the past seven days, Cole hadn't said anything about Rayna; he didn't even utter her name once. It was like her whole existence was merely a figment of imagination.

I knew that Coleman has been against my relationship since the first rehab stint when he first noticed and believed that Rayna was the problem why I couldn't keep my head in the game. But I wouldn't believe him. I refused to. I couldn't. And when I would ask about her, he would clam up on himself and steer the subject into another direction.

I knew that I had hurt Rayna most of all people. She was the one who would stand by me when everyone would say that I was hopeless. She was the one who would try and find me almost every night when I'm drunk and somewhere in a city she wasn't familiar with. She was the one that I would scare to death every time I won't come home and go missing for days. The one who would endure the tour filled with duet numbers that she had to sing solo because I failed to show up. She was the one who would be forgiving whenever I break a promise that I wouldn't drink anymore. And she was the only one who had tried to understand why I'm like this when I was lost in the midst of the dark battle I gave up on fighting.

She had tried to help me countless times and whenever it wouldn't stick, she would cry with no shoulder to hold on to. I was usually that shoulder when she was hurting and I would try to make her feel better. But I wasn't anymore that time; I wasn't there for her because my mind was too caught up at the accusations that I have entitled upon myself. For years, I had let her break apart all alone and I regretted myself for doing that to her.

After all I let her been through, I wanted to understand that she wanted some space to be on her own. I wanted to give her some time to believe that this time I would stick and that it was gonna be different. I wanted to give her some time to start trusting me that I wouldn't let her down again. No matter how much I've missed her and have dreamt of holding her and kissing her again, I wanted to give her the time to heal the bruises in her heart. But earlier this morning when the paper came in, I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

She was getting engaged to a man named Teddy Conrad, a businessman and an heir to the fortunes of his father. Rayna had talked about him a couple times. She talked about how they met when they were just little kids and that he was the only friend she truly had that would understand her. And I asked her if they ever dated before I came along. I can remember her laughing and telling me that she loved him but not the way she loved me. She told me that she didn't want to be a wife of a businessman and become the perfect housewife with the perfect children or the perfect house. She told me that she wanted to live in a normal house filled with music and all that mundane stuff. She didn't want to be another stuck-up housewife who follows after her husband and spreads around the gossips in town. She told me that she wanted to be with me and love me until the day she dies. She didn't want the glitter and glamour that the Belle Meade had to offer.

Now, everything she never wanted was becoming hers. She was going to be a wife of a businessman, the perfect housewife, she was going to have the perfect children, and live in a perfectly elegant mansion. I started to doubt myself when I thought that I knew everything about her, that I knew what she was always thinking about. But I was just living in a fool's paradise. She has always been keeping to herself. I learned that she was always afraid of letting herself out because she didn't want to get hurt. And I feel like I've become what she's been afraid of all this time. But at least there was one thing that I was confident that will never change about her. She was never going to give up music for anything. She is always going to surround herself with music because it was her armor and it was her sword.

I stared out into the dark skies above, the blanket of stars glistening about. The stars reminded me of Rayna. Rayna loved watching that stars blink through the night, the peaceful sight reminding her of fond memories. I missed the countless times we laid under the night sky and the way she would look at me, her blue eyes putting shame on the bright Tennessee stars. And I missed the way I would tell her that she was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and then I would watch her smile. I missed the way we would kiss and the way we would make love in the middle of the quiet field.

I smiled at the memories as I turned my attention back on the road. I've entered the quiet little neighborhood that I've grown accustomed to. My eyes danced around the familiar buildings and the particular spots that Ray and I only knew about. I caught the sight of the little café that we used to go to almost every morning to write lyrics or to just talk and enjoy each other's company.

Driving through the street, I stopped and parked in front of a red house.

I turned the engine off and cocooned myself in silence. I can't believe that I'm actually doing this. Usually, I would just go to the cabin and write myself away and hope that I would heal one of these days. But I couldn't bring myself to turn back. I need this. I needed some kind of closure if she won't give me another chance. I needed to understand her actions. But at the same time, I'm afraid of the aftermath of this night, especially, with the intention of bringing up painful subjects. But I, nonetheless, slipped out of the truck and walked to the direction of the door.

On the way, I noticed that the living room lighting was on, the light filtering through the curtains from the window. I stood a foot away from the door, my fist in the air, hesitating before my knuckles finally made contact on the wood. There was no answer but I didn't turn around and leave. I had a mission to accomplish tonight, which is to clear the questions that has been invading my mind and I needed answers even if they aren't going to be the ones I wanted. I waited for a few minutes before I made a move to knock again but I heard the familiar lock unlocking and watched as the door opened slowly.

_You find yourself at my door just like all those times before_

_You wear your best apology but I was there to watch you leave_

_And all the times I let you in just for you to go again_

_Disappear when you come back everything is better_

When I heard the knock on the door, I had no doubt in my mind that it would be _him_, the person I've been trying to avoid since the day he got out of rehab. I could feel the guilt that I've been feeling since Teddy slipped the ring on my finger wash over my body. It has never felt so heavy on my shoulders until now. I regretted not being the first one he would see when he got out of the facility but I couldn't face him when I had just gotten engaged the day before his dismissal. But I just couldn't take anymore of the crying and the hurting that I had to let myself go through for so long. I felt so weak living that dark life with him.

Before his addiction, both of us were happy. We lived the life that millions of people would crave for; we had nothing to complain about. But that paradise didn't last long when he started drinking and got out of control when his best friend, Vince, died in a car crash. I felt like I didn't know myself anymore as I went around in cities, finding him knocked out in bars or passed out in hotel rooms. I felt like my heart would bleed to death whenever I would wait outside hospital doors, Deacon's lifeline balancing on a thin wire.

Finding the strength and courage I needed, I stood up from the couch and headed to the door. I looked through the peephole and saw him, hands on his hips, waiting patiently. I smiled at myself just by finally seeing him after six aching months. His sight has never failed to make me happy even if it was after the long days that he would go missing.

My hand shook as it curled around the doorknob, debating whether to twist it or let go. I don't know what I would expect or do once I'd open the door. If I wasn't engaged, I would have opened it without hesitation and run to his arms. But I am engaged, so I couldn't possibly do that. I knew that he saw the paper earlier today, probably the most hurtful thing that could ever greet him in the morning. But through the peephole, his face was ostensibly neutral like nothing different has ever happened when the truth was: everything has changed. I watched him as he put his fist in the air, attempting to knock again but I stopped him when my hand finally turned the knob and I pulled the door open.

"Hey."

My voice barely audible but I knew he heard me. I leaned on the doorframe and gave him a small smile, the smile that I would always give him whenever my real emotions were concealed. I watched as his eyes started to trail down my body, stopping at my finger where the diamond ring was wrapped around. I noticed as his eyes started to water, his eyebrows furrowed, trying to stop the tears before they fall. Not wanting to torture him, I slid my left hand behind my back and his eyes returned to meet mine.

Not knowing what to say, I did what decent people would do when there's company. "Do you want to come in and talk?" I asked nervously.

"Sure," he replied. I stepped aside, clearing a path for him to enter. He walked inside and stood in the middle of the living room, rocking on his heels. I closed the door and I turned to face him. I sought for his eyes but his was just wandering around on the floor, letting the silence surround us. The heels of his shoe, the one I gave him for his birthday years ago, were drawing circles on the ground. Then his eyes finally met mine. I almost broke in pieces as I saw the hurt and the sadness coloring his hues.

The guilt inside me was increasing in a rapid rate as I felt sick to my stomach. The tears started to gather in my eyes and I looked up at the ceiling, stopping it from falling down. The uncomfortable tension remained in the room until I heard a soft _ding _rang out. I looked behind Deacon, where the kitchen was and stared at the coffee maker, thanking the object for dissolving the tension for now.

"Coffee?" I asked. Deacon didn't do anything but continue to stare at me and I had to turn away as the tension started to reappear. This whole time, he has only said one word to me. He's usually like this when he is too occupied with his emotions to say anything. It was like those times when he was so happy that he would stare at me for hours and we would communicate using our eyes and our smiles. But this time he wasn't happy, he was far from feeling any kind of happiness at the moment. His silence indicated that he didn't want the beverage I was planning on enjoying tonight so I let the subject drop. "Deacon, please talk to me," I pleaded.

"You really want me to talk?" he asked. I could sense the warning in his voice and the way his eyes widened in fury. His hands were in tight fists beside him, his body stiff. "Do you really want me to talk? 'Cause you know what I'm gonna ask."

He was right. I do know what he was gonna ask. He was going to ask why I got engaged. He was going to ask why I picked Teddy instead of him. I know all the things that he was going to say because I've been readying myself for this moment for quite some time now.

I took extra caution on how to respond because I knew that at times like this; I had to be careful so he wouldn't do anything drastic afterwards. I wanted him to talk to me. I wanted him to say something because his eyes told me that words have been weighing him down in his mind.

"Yes, I want you to talk to me," I said vigilantly.

"Do you still love me?"

My eyes widened in shock as his words hung in the air. Was he dropped on his head as a baby? He knows that I love him and will always do. I told him those same words a long time ago and it wasn't going to change one bit. He knows the answer to his question but was he crazy for doubting my love for him?

At the same time though, I had to admit that if he proposed to another girl then I would have asked the same thing. He knew that I love him but I guess he needed to hear it from my own mouth. "You know I do," I answered.

"Then why are you doing this?"

I couldn't look him in the eye. After all the rehearsing of the things I would say, it felt like it had just slipped through my fingers, leaving me defenseless.

When I didn't give him a response, silence conquered the room. And it gave him all the more reason to continue.

"Why did you get engaged to that Belle Meade guy? Why did you pick him instead of me? Huh? Why?!" He wasn't shouting but his tone was hoarse, the words heartbreaking that I could feel his pain stabbing me. His voice echoed in my mind at the loudest volume as my tears started to fall.

I could feel my heart beating out of my chest and my head pounding with the sudden ache of grief that overtook me. I willed myself to talk but my tongue felt dry and I couldn't breathe.

Deacon stood there, his eyes wide in anticipation. I could tell that he's trying his best not to break down into pieces. So many questions are running around my head right now, making it harder to think.

What if he drinks after I tell him? What will happen then? Is this going to be the last blow? The final cannon blow that would indefinitely bring down his walls? The stakes were so high.

But finally, I cracked opened the shell that I'd been hiding in. When I finally spoke, I was appalled by how it came out.

"Because I can depend on him! I didn't need to worry about him getting drunk and almost getting killed at fights!" I didn't mean to shout but all the things I've kept to myself have been taking a toll on me and I just couldn't fake being such a well-guarded person when I'm the complete opposite.

I could see his muscles contract as he tried to process what he had just heard. He looked down at his shoes and it made me want to slap myself in the face for just hurting him like that. But I kept going. He needed to hear me out and understand what he let me go through.

"I couldn't take any more of the hurting and the worrying and the crying. I couldn't stand watching you get pumped every week and I couldn't stand sitting on those chairs at hospitals waiting for someone to tell me that you didn't make it," my voice was much softer but it didn't lighten the blow.

I leaned on the wall for stability as the strength in my knees started to give away. I put my hands on my mouth to block the strained noises I was making.

"But this time it's gonna be different," he insisted. "This time I'm gonna work harder. I promise! Rayna, this really is the last time. You have to believe me!"

"Deacon, you think I don't want to believe you?" I asked him. "Do you think I didn't want to believe it when you said that it was going to be the last time or that this time it was gonna be different?" I looked at him, trying to make sure that he heard what I said. "But every time you would relapse you would blame yourself for letting me down and I was tired of hearing it! I wanted to stop you from blaming yourself because that is exactly how all of this started."

He sighed in frustration and inhaled, trying to calm himself down before he could talk again.

"You have to trust me," he pleaded. "You're the most important thing that has ever happened to me and I don't want to lose you."

"If I was so important… then why couldn't you stop drinking? Why is Vince and all the booze winning against me?" I asked between sobs, my throat dry and my voice tight. Deacon walked over me and rested his hands on my shoulders and it took everything in me not to lean into him.

"You're the most important thing to me," he said, his tears now freefalling. "Please don't leave me."

I could hear the desperate tone in his voice as his life depended on a simple answer. I lifted my hands to cup his face and looked at him squarely in the eyes, my thumb brushing away the tears on his cheeks.

"I'm sorry…" I said, regretting my own words. "But I've made my choice."

With that, his head dropped to his chest. He shook his head in disbelief as he tried to process my words, as if he hadn't just heard them. He started to retreat slowly and I suddenly missed the warmth of his hand on my skin. He rested covered his mouth with his hand, his head pulled back and stared at the ceiling. He looked back at me.

"Are we done?"

My mouth couldn't function as I chocked back my tears. I gripped the ends of my shirt as I forced myself to answer him but I couldn't. The truth was that I didn't want to end it with him because he was everything that I have ever wanted. He was just like music to me, it's not just the thing you just let go and move on. But I had to try to let him go. I had met with Cole a few days back and he told me that it was the best way. I had to help Deacon keep his sobriety and if it was to let him go, then I had to. I had his best interest at heart but right now it felt like I was making the worst mistake of my life. What if he decides to relapse again? I couldn't bear to think about him going through that road again. I didn't want to be the reason for him wasting himself again and in order to do that, I had to give him an answer but all I could do was nod my head.

I watched as his world turn upside down inside him. I watched with regret as he nodded and turned around to leave.


End file.
